


To Wait For

by chronicAngel



Series: Leaves in the Summer [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, F/M, Original Character Death(s), POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 20:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: She's always known that a mission that requires four jōnin is going to be dangerous and has never been one to mess around on missions if they weren't settling down for the night, anyway, but somehow the real mortality of their career has never been at the front of her mind.





	To Wait For

She is on what is to be her last mission outside of the village before she's married in three months to the heir of her clan, and she thinks it's fitting that it should be with her childhood squad. She's never worked better with anyone else, and she's happy to have the opportunity to say goodbye to them.

As it turns out, she has to say goodbye faster than she'd think. She's always known that a mission that requires four jōnin is going to be dangerous and has never been one to mess around on missions if they weren't settling down for the night, anyway, but somehow the real mortality of their career has never been at the front of her mind. It is now, as one second Yasu is standing at her side and the next the only thing close to her that resembles Yasu is his blood on her face.

She recognizes the wind style yet is still caught off-guard when she is shoved out of the way in time to look over and see her best friend in the world being all but ripped in half, having been too focused on the two enemies approaching her from the other side to see the wind user weaving hand signs behind her. He doesn't have a dramatic dying speech. He doesn't give her a final reassuring look. When her eyes settle on his body, she feels sick to her stomach as she thinks _Where are his legs?_ Even the brother and sister from Suna she was fighting a minute ago seem to have respectfully stilled so she has time to mourn her comrade, which she knows is more courtesy than an Uchiha would show an enemy. It's for this reason alone that when she stands, she twists to have her back completely to them.

She can already feel the energy being sapped from her at a faster rate, see the world around her more clearly than she ever has before. She knows what this is. The hand signs she weaves feel foreign to her fingers though they are the same she has been using her whole life, if in a different combination, but she does not let this hold her back from using her family's jutsu. Hearing the rustling of cloaks as Torune-sensei and Shikuro move to fight the pair she was previously taking on by herself behind her, she screams, "Amaterasu!" Unlike any other time she can remember casting a fire style jutsu in her life, her entire body feels as though it has gone cold, every hair standing on end while black flames seem to crawl through the air toward the Suna shinobi that took Yasu.

Minutes pass and unlike most times when a large amount of time has gone by, she feels every second. Her grandfather used to tell her that the Uchiha clan's Amaterasu were summoned straight from Hell itself, and that if the user could maintain it, it could probably burn forever. She makes it three minutes before she has to put the flames out, her knees shaking underneath her and a liquid too thick to be tears trailing hotly down her cheeks. She makes it halfway to her fallen teammate before her legs give out and drags herself the rest of the way through the sand to cradle his body, already completely devoid of life, against her chest, sobbing into his hair while blood spills from her eyes.

Shikuro and Torune-sensei crouch near her after a minute but do not touch her. "The two Suna shinobi retreated," one of them says, but she doesn't not catch who.

She doesn't know how long she lays there in the sand, blood and tears pouring down her face while she clings to the remains of her closest friend. Her eyes keep sliding disdainfully to the charred corpse of her opponent, who really never stood a chance against a Mangekyō Sharingan even if it was newly awakened. Eventually, Shikuro must notice, because she can see his eyes widen under his sunglasses. "Mikoto, your eyes..."

"Don't say a word about this to anyone from my clan," she warns, expression dangerous. She would never hurt either of them, especially not this soon after losing their other teammate, but a silent threat still lingers in the air.

They both nod wordlessly, and she lets out a shaky breath. She doesn't much like the thought of having her eyes stolen by an overzealous cousin or uncle seeking more power in the form of an Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan and is sure she won't be in a state to fight them off for a few days if this is anything like awakening her Sharingan was. She remembers being in bed for two days after, unlocking it after an incident when she was only ten during which her sister and cousins were cornered by a rotten member of the Inuzuka clan and his equally rotten dog. She was hardly a genin then, and she remembers Yasu and Shikuro visiting her both afternoons to keep her company since her sister was also stuck in bed after a nasty bite to her leg from the dog. It was the first time she'd had a positive thought about either of them.

She lets out another sob into his hair at the memory, and then forces herself to stand, legs still weak underneath her. Her mind painfully flashes to a conversation they'd had shortly after they were all promoted to jōnin, only fourteen years old.

_"What do you two plan to do if you die on the battlefield?" Shikuro asks. Mikoto recoils at the question, staring at her teammate in disgust. The Aburame has never been one for talking, preferring to sit back and watch them as though observing their behavior to record in a journal, a thought that always makes her snicker. Now, though, she just watches him in horror as he wears an expression like he doesn't understand what he could have said wrong._

_She doesn't bother to think about the question, let alone actually answer it. She doesn't like to think about the possibility that any of them may die on the battlefield, begrudgingly admitting that she's grown fond of them over the years that they've been on a team together. To her alarm, Yasu seems to be considering it when she looks over at him. "I suppose I'd like to be cremated," he says, tapping his chin thoughtfully but not elaborating. She supposes she doesn't want to know why, anyway._

She swipes at her cheeks with the backs of her hands and then forms the hand signs again, trying not to let any emotion stir in her gut where nausea is already starting to rise. "Amaterasu!" She cries, and only has time to see him engulfed in the fire before she can practically feel her eyes fade to black and she collapses back against Shikuro.

* * *

She holds Itachi's small hand in one of hers and rests her other on her large stomach as she walks with him to the market, humming a tune that she only half-remembers as she navigates various stalls. She's seven months pregnant with their second son and her husband, too overjoyed with the news that they will be having another child now that Itachi is starting to grow independent, has decided that she can buy whatever she wants so long as she's willing to go get it herself. She thinks it's a pleasant change from her pregnancy with Itachi, where he hovered constantly and attempted to moderate everything as though she wouldn't know what was good or bad for her own body or as though she wasn't also present for every appointment. In the middle of March, the snow that fell seemingly out of nowhere three weeks ago is starting to melt again, and she thinks it's the perfect weather to get kinkan.

Her son pulls on her hand and beams, pointing at a stand with sweet strawberries. She's noticed that he has a soft spot for sweets and grins, crouching down to pick him up. "Okay," she starts, nuzzling her face in his neck, "but don't tell your father." He nods, clearly excited at the prospect of something even mildly sweet. Of course, she'll tell her husband later, but it's always fun to pretend like Itachi's love of sweets is something that the two of them keep a secret as though his father has not caught their son trying to sneak extra jam or stuff candies in his mouth at his grandparents' house.

She ends up filling a small basket with strawberries, carrying it in the crook of one elbow and holding him with the other arm so he can pick at the fruits while she walks in search of her own guilty pleasure. "Thank you, Mama," he says, holding a strawberry almost as big as his hand and giving her a big grin that reminds her of her deceased teammate so much it almost gives her pause. Instead, she pushes forward and ends up buying two jars of sakura jam and another small basket of kaki, which she reasons with Itachi will be out of season soon so it's only right to get some now while she can.

She finally turns on her heel despite not having gotten kinkan after an hour, having purchased green tea, a thin bracelet, and two melon buns that she and Itachi now snack on.

"Now remember," she says, covering her mouth with one hand while she chews, "your father doesn't need to know." This she won't tell him, snickering with her son while they take the last few bites of bread and approach the door to their house. She is startled when her husband steps through the entrance at what she knows to be the moment they're in his line of sight wearing a dark expression.

Helping Itachi to jump over a puddle and laughing warmly, she stops in front of him, trying to scan his face for some sign of what's troubling him. She's usually good at reading him, but finds that he's not particularly giving today. "What's wrong, darling?" The often unused endearment slips through in her nervous state.

"Torune is dead."

Her entire world flips upside down. She feels the basket of strawberries slip from where it has been hanging from her fingers but is too numb to even think about catching it, registering somewhere in the back of her mind when she hears it land in a puddle of melted snow on the ground. She can feel her son's round eyes on her as she always does but finds that all she can do is drop his hand the same way she dropped his precious fruit moments ago. She thinks she hears herself whisper "Torune-sensei..." but isn't entirely sure.

She wipes almost subconsciously at the tears that have begun to stream down her face despite the odd calm that she knows has settled over her features and forces herself to meet her husband's eyes. He must take this to mean something, as he continues, "On a mission with his newest genin squad to the Land of Grass. The official report is that he blocked a wind style jutsu that would have killed a kunoichi on his team." Holding a hand up to signal him to stop, she lets the information wash over her. It's almost funny, she thinks. Is every one of her teammates going to die sacrificing themselves to a wind jutsu for someone else who probably doesn't deserve it? She feels her fists clench at her sides so hard that her nails bite at the skin of her palms and she finds herself glad she dropped Itachi's hand.

"I..." She starts and trails off. She doesn't know what she can say. Her mind flashes to the picture of her old team that sits alone in their bedroom. She's always wondered why Fugaku doesn't have his in the room, or anywhere else in the house for that matter, especially since she learned that his teammates all died before she'd even met him. When she first learned this, she was horrified, the death of Yasu still fresh in her memory as only a year had passed. Now, she wonders if she'll even be able to look at her own.

"I need to be somewhere else," she says slowly, and she barely catches her husband nodding his assent before she turns and practically runs. The route is familiar. This makes sense, as it's one she's been traveling since she was ten years old.

Akidu answers the door when she knocks and ushers her inside. Somehow, no matter the time of day, Shikuro's house always sounds like crickets singing. It is high noon at the latest and yet she can hear the orchestra of insects as clear as she could if they were on a mission in the forest surrounding their village in the middle of the night. His house is similarly always pitch black, and without her Sharingan and years of experience she's not sure she could navigate it. She steps past the threshold of his bedroom, one which belonged to his father the first time she set foot in it over a decade ago, and her breath hitches. As though a dam has been broken, she dissolves into sobs and he meets her halfway between the doorway and his bed so she can cry into his shoulder, arms wrapped firmly around her back.

"Sensei," she cries over and over again like a mantra. Shikuro does not say anything, simply rubs her back like he did in the months following Yasu's death when the reality of their team's situation hit her too hard, but she can feel his tears against the top of her head and feels selfish. She is always the one to break down in these situations and her teammates have always been the ones lifting her up again. Now it is just the two of them and all of this burden is on him. She sniffs and pulls back after what must be at least half an hour, wiping at her stinging eyes. "I'm sorry..." She whispers. He stays quiet again, but she is one of the only people in the village who is able to see his reprimanding look. After years together, he knows that.

She doesn't know how long they sit there, leaning against each other. She doesn't know how long it is before his wife joins them, only feels the bed sinking as Akidu sits on the other side of her childhood friend.

"We were thinking," she starts tentatively, eyes flicking between Mikoto and Shikuro. Shikuro must nod or do something, because she clears her throat and continues more confidently, "If we have a boy, we would name him Torune." Mikoto had forgotten Akidu's pregnancy, discovered a month ago. She nods.

"I think sensei would have liked that..." Seven months later in October, Aburame Torune is born.

* * *

She’s still wearing an apron when she opens the door, her face falling when she sees one of the messengers from the battlefield. “I’ll go get my husband,” she says, as she knows that she gave up any right to information when she retired as a shinobi, and turns to go to the yard where he’s sparring with Itachi. Sasuke, who turned three a few months ago and adores his brother, is probably sitting on the porch watching them.

To her surprise, the shinobi catches her wrist with a hot, calloused hand. “I’m not here for your husband.” Her eyes go wide and she has to force herself not to hold her breath with the anticipation of the news. Looking almost sorry, the stranger continues, “Aburame Shikuro was killed in the most recent battle with Kumogakure.”

Her heart stutters, and then leaps to pound a rhythm in her throat. "I'm sorry?" She says softly, sure that she can't have heard him right.

"Aburame Shikuro was cornered in the battlefield during the most recent battle with Kumogakure. He was attacked with three simultaneous Bashōsen." _Lightning style_ , her mind supplies, and she gapes in horror at the messenger. He would have been torn apart from the inside out; and worst of all, as a shinobi with an affinity for earth release, he wouldn't have had any immediate defenses. "My condolences for your loss," he says after a minute, almost as though he's trying to pull her out of her own thoughts, and she nods as she moves to close the door.

She doesn't return to the dishes, though she's sure that she's already finished them twice over anyway, instead collapsing on the couch and staring at her hands in horror until she hears her boys come in. Sasuke, as usual, is loudly singing Itachi's praise and she can only hope dimly that it doesn't go straight to his head. Once again as usual, her husband and elder son are much quieter, though she can hear rustling as they remove jackets. She hardly even registered the cold when she opened the door, but remembers that it is November and thus is certainly cold outside.

She finds herself angry when her husband steps into the living room and seems to sense something wrong in the air, looking to her and asking quickly if she's alright. She stands and turns toward him as though clicking into place, the fact that their sons are nearby hardly registering. "How many people have to die, Fugaku?" She realizes she's yelling, can feel the force of her voice down to her very bones, but finds that this is only fueling the fire that she supposes has been stirring in her gut ever since Obito. "Will it not be enough until we lose one of our _sons_? Is that what it will take for you to call an end to this war?" He looks stunned, but mostly like he doesn't understand what she's talking about. "The Uchiha have weight in this village! We can do _something_ , and you're sitting on your hands! Call Sarutobi! Call Hyūga! Get something done!" Before he can even open his mouth to respond, she pushes past him and to their bedroom.

Mikoto does not like snapping at her husband. She doesn't think he would ever hurt her, but is largely afraid of the consequences it may have on their relationship in the long run, not to mention the consequences it may have on their children. If she does have something to bring to his attention, she generally prefers to do it quietly and when they're going to bed, which is partially because she's learned that once he's settled down at her side he can't _escape_.

Her eyes catch on a glint near the corner of their room, and she turns to see light reflecting off of the glass frame of her old team photo, taken when she was only ten years old and before she had really experienced loss.

In the middle is Yasu, wearing his bright grin that looks so much like her eldest son when he smiles, green eyes still filled with hope. She remembers his shock of white hair being stained with blood and sand.

Behind him is Torune-sensei, crouching so his head is only just above all of theirs. She remembers thinking he was so tall back then. Of course, he was always very tall, but she recalls thinking he was some sort of giant when she was ten. She's not sure she ever learned his natural hair color before he was completely grey, the first issue because of his stupid blue hat and the second because of their team, of course.

She lets her eyes drift over to where Shikuro stands at Yasu's side and she feels her heart thump against her throat again in protest. His hair is the same dark brown mess of all of the Aburame clan, at least all that she's met, and she and Yasu used to spend hours after they'd set up camp for the night just rubbing the top of his head as fast as they could for the little shocks. He'd complained once, after she'd commented on how messy his hair always was, that maybe he'd bother brushing it if they weren't always going to mess it up again, and after that she'd learned to stop making fun of his hair. Even without the added inches of his wild mane, he's at least three inches taller than either her or Yasu, and he kept up that trend for the rest of their lives. Her breath hitches at the painful reminder and she moves on.

She stands on Yasu's other side, sticking her tongue out through a smile and squeezing her eyes shut. The picture was taken only days before the incident where she awoke her Sharingan, and she's always felt they looked different then, though her cousins and siblings always tease her that she's crazy. Those of them that haven't been lost to the ongoing war, that is. She thinks that the shirt she wears in the picture, a dark purple and slightly high-collared ensemble that she used to put on at any given opportunity, has been handed down to her niece Izumi by now.

Somehow, this is the last thought she has before she starts to cry.

Flipping the picture so it lays down on its face, she curls on her side in bed and sniffs, letting out on a few quiet sobs. "Are the three of you together now? Yasu? Sensei? Shikuro?" She whispers. "Will you wait for me to join you some day?" Closing her eyes, she imagines how funny it would be. Some day, when she's old and grey, she'll pass away and be greeted by these three young men, the oldest of which was already forty by the time they'd met. Yasu will comment on how old she's gotten but will somehow make it sound like a compliment and Torune-sensei will put his hand on her shoulder and say something incredibly stupid that will somehow sound profound. Shikuro will be standing at the side, just as quiet as he always is, but he'll smile and maybe he'll rub her back. It's a death she's glad to wait for.

**Author's Note:**

> We're going back to our roots with the angst, folks. I actually liked this one though. There was another scene I wanted to include of Sasuke and Itachi (aged three and eight) trying to make her breakfast to make her feel better after she sort of dozes off after Shikuro's death, but it felt too light and happy for this fic if that makes sense? And I found a nice stopping point, I think. So this is the ending you got instead of that.


End file.
